


An Atlas In My Hands

by LetsWasteTime



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Europe, I'm Sorry, M/M, Niall is in there (but just a tiny bit) because Niall wins at life, Pining, So much fluff I think I''m going to drown in feelings and sickeningly sweet romance, Travel, backpacking, there's strikingly little travelling for this to be a Travel AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1912959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetsWasteTime/pseuds/LetsWasteTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Travel AU. Louis meets Harry in Amsterdam when he doesn't know where to go next. They set out for Europe together.<br/>Featuring a ridiculous amount of pretentious sightseeing descriptions, salads in a pan, hipster clubs, jealousy and some Lit references because <em>why not</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Atlas In My Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nononono (zaynsteenyknees)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaynsteenyknees/gifts).



> This is basically a huge self-indulgent piece of travel notes. I'm sorry. But there's fluff and you said you wanted loads of fluff. Hope you like it.
> 
> My endless gratitude to my betas [Tina](http://www.coldandemptybedroom.tumblr.com/), [T](http://www.sadamenoito.tumblr.com/), [Alice](http://www.intenselouis.tumblr.com/) & [Mi](http://www.calmlikeyou-dk.tumblr.com/) and my britpick. [Janet](http://www.oh-little-sleepy-boy.tumblr.com/). You helped me make sense of this mess.
> 
> [Title is from [ Atlas Hands by Benjamin Francis Leftwich ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pyue2N1XZ0M&feature=kp)]

**AMSTERDAM**

Louis was loudly tumbling down the stairs and he was pretty sure he was waking up half the hostel with the noise his steps were producing. He couldn’t really be bothered right now, though. He _needed_ to pee. Urgently. Faster than strictly necessary, he passed reception without sparing so much as a glance at the people gathered in the entrance area. He dived into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

He’d woken up with the dire need to take a piss only to find the ensuite to the dorm already occupied by someone else. _What a wanker_ , Louis thought. Who takes a shower at 7 o’clock in the morning, anyway? That should be illegal. Mornings should be illegal, Louis decided when he finally got to relieve himself.

When he exited the bathroom again, he took a look at reception, curious to see why there was already a group gathered around the desk at this ungodly hour. He felt as if his pillow was still plastered to his face, not fully awake yet.

He watched as a scruffy blond bloke - Niall, Louis remembered - went to hug every single one of the group. Recognising a few familiar faces, Louis realised that they all worked at the hostel, like Niall actually did. Or had, Louis amended when he caught some snippets of the conversation and realised that apparently, Niall was leaving.

“Heading for the great unknown?” Louis yelled from where he was still standing and then walked over to the small group. He leaned against the small heater placed next to the entrance and immediately tried to get as much as he could of the warmth that was seeping through his joggers.

“No. Going home, actually,” Niall answered with a sad smile, “Had my fair share of Europe a bit earlier this year.”

“I’m sad to see you go, Ni,” one of the girls in the group told him when he turned to hug her.

“I know Jade, I’m gonna miss you, too.” Niall’s smile got even sadder. He checked his watch and jumped when he registered the time. “Shit, I really gotta go, don’t wanna miss my flight.”

“Have you got everything?” the guy behind the desk asked and Louis _definitely_ remembered his name. _Harry_. Curly-headed, pretty Harry who had actual dimples and who had run into Louis that one night in the hallway with only a towel wrapped around his waist. And nothing else. _Good times._ Also distressing times for Louis. But thankfully, Harry was fully dressed now, apparently working reception today. He was frowning though, his smile even more dismal than the one Niall was displaying.

“Yes, _Mum_.” Niall huffed but stepped around the desk and enveloped Harry in a tight hug. “Don’t miss me too much, H.” As soon as they let go of each other, Niall exited from the reception area, shouldered his big rucksack and motioned towards the door.

He turned around one last time. “Have fun traipsing through Europe, Haz! And don’t let anyone kidnap you! It’s the dimples, remember?”

“Bye Niall,” was all he got in return, but Harry’s smile was fond, if still a bit sad. Only then did Louis realise what Niall’s last few words might have implied. _Traipsing through Europe_. As in setting out to travel through Europe. He shook his head to get rid of the clearly ridiculous idea that had popped up in his mind and tried not to dwell on it any longer.

The group that had gathered for Niall’s farewell slowly dissolved, preparing for the day, attending to their own business. Louis waited a few moments, watching the few people head in different directions before he shifted his attention back to the only person left in the room.

He risked a glance over to where Harry was sitting and saw that the curly-haired boy was absently staring into the distance, head propped up on his hands and elbows resting on the desk. He wasn’t sure what the right way to do this was, but he knew that  jumping the gun was definitely the _worst_ strategy. So, Louis averted his gaze to feign interest in the array of flyers laid out in the lobby.

What was he still doing down here anyway? He was only in his jogging bottoms and a thin t shirt that he slept in and surely, he had to look like hell. Contemplating his options, he was now fidgeting with the hem of his shirt which. Impeccably unsuspicious, clearly. Nevertheless, the thought of just approaching Harry seemed like the best idea at hand right then, so he was going to do just that. He was a master at this nonchalance thing. The flyers propped up above the heater were all adverts for local trips and coupons, so obviously, they were of absolutely no interest to him. Not anymore, at least. He’d seen enough of Amsterdam. Luckily, he’d be leaving tomorrow. Speaking of which, he should probably be more worried by the fact that he still hadn’t decided where he was heading. He’d been postponing the final decision as much as he could, too scared of the impact of his choice. The thing was, Europe was quite big, okay? At least to him, and the options seemed _endless_. Don’t blame him if he couldn’t choose. He’d just resort to last-minute scheduling.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t just walk up to Harry and start a conversation. They weren’t exactly strangers. After his arrival 10 days earlier, Louis had taken quite a liking to him, despite their odd first encounter. Harry had been the one who volunteered to take Louis on a _free_ tour through the nearby markets along with a few other people staying at the hostel. Granted it had been only an hour and Harry had spent the entire tour gushing about organic vegetables and the pretty flowers at the Bloemenmarkt. Still, Louis had enjoyed the way Harry talked and he might even have been slightly endeared by Harry’s enthusiasm for healthy food and lovely blossoms. But that was neither here nor there.

After a couple of minutes, he realised he couldn’t pretend any longer that he was interested in discounts for Madame Tussauds or a tour of the Anne Frank House. So, he turned to face the desk again. Harry - who had apparently snapped out of his absent-mindedness - was now typing away on his keyboard. The frown that had settled on his face earlier still hadn’t dissipated. Louis _needed_ to change that. Because he’s a nice person. And, maybe because Harry’s cute. And sometimes distractingly hot. Particularly, when he was working behind the bar, skillfully mixing drinks and flirting with everyone that came within a radius of ten feet. Louis had already had his fair share and he was convinced that that might have been the single time in his life that he had embarrassed himself. Because Louis simply didn’t do embarrassment. He was the epitome of nonchalance, thank you very much. Yet, Harry had turned him into a flustered mess, Louis had been confronted full force with the devilish magic that was Harry’s charm, so quite frankly, nobody could really blame Louis. It was _impossible_ to resist him. The boy had _fucking_ dimples, so.

Now though, the cute part was definitely winning the battle. Louis was openly staring at Harry, so he should probably get a move on. Niall’s throw-away comment from earlier was still ringing in his ears even though he tried to discard it. He didn’t want to bother Harry, didn’t really know where to go with his planned conversation, but his curiosity got the better of him. Tentatively, Louis stepped up to reception and leaned over the counter. Harry caught the movement and focused his gaze on him.

“Can I help you?” he asked, resting his fingers on the keyboard.

“Depends,” Louis responded and drew out the word. This could go very wrong, very quickly. His mind flashed back to their first meeting, how he had blankly stared at Harry, who’d only been wrapped up in a tiny towel, drops of water from his earlier shower still spread over his lean and muscular torso. Mentally flinching at the embarrassing memory, Louis remembered the toothpaste dribbling from down his chin when Harry had decided to make an appearance. Yet, considering Harry’s scarcely dressed state and Louis’ comatose brain, Louis praised himself that he hadn’t done anything more awkward. Like _spitting_ out the toothpaste or dropping his pants. The sight that had presented itself to Louis made his brain go fuzzy. He distinctly remembered thinking that he wanted to lick the laurels tattooed onto Harry’s v-lines. Bloody _laurels_.

Despite the feeble state of Louis’ mental health, they had exchanged a timid greeting - both of them already too overwhelmed by fatigue - and yet, Louis remembered it vividly. He probably needed to add that to his list of “times he embarrassed himself in front of Harry”, right below the flirting incident at the bar.

“You and Niall are pretty tight, right?” Louis continued, having successfully freed his consciousness from half-naked Harry. He was ace-ing this nonchalance thing.

“He’s my best mate, yeah,” Harry answered and the smile from earlier returned. It was still accompanied by a sad look in Harry’s eyes but Louis counted it as a win, nevertheless. “Why?”

“I just thought that you’d be leaving this place together - if at all - that is,” Louis replied. “It was kind of strange to see him take off without you.”

“He’s going home. Starting an internship next week.”

“I figured that much, Harold. But why are _you_ still here?”

“It’s just Harry, actually. I’m leaving tomorrow, as well. Today’s my last day working here.”

By now, the sadness in Harry’s eyes had dissipated and was replaced with a hint of what Louis recognised as anticipation. This would be the moment, definitely. The moment Louis could actually ask, finally quenching the curiosity that had been building up ever since he’d heard Niall’s comment. Apparently, though, he didn’t even need his courage this time. He was saved by pure luck. “But I’m not going home,” Harry continued “I have some time off and want to see Europe. I’ve got my rucksack ready.”

“You’re gonna be travelling alone?” Louis asked before he could stop himself. Better now than never.

“Yep, at least for now.” Harry’s grin was still carving dimples into his cheeks. Louis was oddly distracted. He didn’t dare inquire any further, though. Asking what he _actually_ wanted to know. Didn’t even let himself imagine what it would be like to travel with someone, instead of facing the journey on his own. A queasy feeling settled in Louis’ stomach at this new train of thought.

Travelling with Harry though. Just the two of them. While the idea of travelling with a complete stranger, exposing parts of himself he hadn’t even properly explored on his own, should scare him, the prospect of travelling alone terrified him even more. He barely knew Harry, though, the only actual conversations they had with each other had happened when Louis had been half-drunk and Harry had probably been just polite.

He didn’t ask. And that was that.

 

\------------------------------

“So you just left?”

Postponing a reply, Harry seemed to weigh his answer, considering it for a few moments.

“‘Just left’ doesn’t really sum up what it was actually like, but yes, I basically just packed my things and left.”

They were sitting at the bar of the hostel, both of them propped up on bar stools and sipping on their first round of beers. Harry had joined Louis as soon as his shift was over and after a few awkward moments where they had both been trying to keep the conversation light with mutual attempts at small talk they’d realised that they didn’t really need it. Sure, Louis needed a moment to get used to Harry’s quirky and unique way of telling stories but he found himself enjoying the slow drawl of Harry’s voice and the consideration Harry allowed himself for his answers, as if he wasn’t sure if they lived up to what he actually wanted to say. Just as expected, their conversation had slipped back to travelling rather quickly and they were taking turns in explaining how they had ended up in a tiny hostel bar in Amsterdam in the middle of June.

Pondering what Harry had just told him, Louis was unexpectedly taken aback. He had trouble picturing 18-year-old Harry who’d just finished his A-levels, muddling around his hometown, undecided about what to do with his life. And then Niall had appeared. Niall who had rung him up, telling Harry to come to Amsterdam. Niall who Harry later considered a godsend. And so he’d ended up in Amsterdam, the first stop on a Europe trip that had only taken form at the last minute, and somehow the city had just taken him in and never released him. Until now - a month since Harry had left his tiny hometown for the rest of Europe.

“It sounds more impressive than it actually was,” Harry continued, apparently struggling hard to explain himself. “Sure, it was the first time I was travelling alone... but I never felt _lonely_. The people here are amazing, too, so there’s that.”

Louis got it, in a way. After sixth form he’d taken a year off, just like Harry, and had gone travelling. Not in Europe, that had felt too close to home at the time, choosing instead to go to South America. He’d spent his first few months away from home in Ecuador. At the time, it had felt like his second home but as soon as he’d left the place, he had met new people, discovered new cities and opportunities, which made him reconsider. With the right amount of optimism and open-heartedness you could make _any place_ your home. Louis had always felt like that - or ever since he had discovered his love for travelling. Of course, his home in Doncaster still occupied a special place in his heart because that’s where he’d grown up. But he didn’t feel the constant pull towards it, which other people claimed to experience when they’re away from home.

“Why are you leaving then?” Louis inquired, keen to find out more about Harry.

“I feel like it’s the right time. I feel like a change of scene,” Harry shrugged “And without Niall there isn’t anything that’s keeping me here.”

Louis just nodded and absent-mindedly traced the water droplets that had gathered on his pint glass.

“What brings _you_ here?” Harry then asked. Louis wasn’t sure how much of the truth he was willing to share and how much Harry would understand.

“I just finished my first year of studying law,” Louis started, still hesitant as to where he wanted his answer to go. “Studying’s been great but I felt weirdly trapped. Like, I was doing fine at uni and the friends I’ve got in London are great, but.”

He stopped himself, afraid to reveal more than he was willing to. Harry’s gaze was still fixed on him but there was no force in it, nothing that was pressuring Louis for an answer. The genuine interest in the other boy’s eyes was what made Louis go on.

“I just felt like there was something missing. Or rather, _I_ was missing out on something - something that I wouldn’t find while lounging around on my couch all summer.”

“Well, I hope that you’ll find what you’re looking for, in that case.” Harry supplied and managed to steer clear from any inquisitive questions that Louis probably didn’t have an answer to. And right there was where Louis decided he was glad to have met Harry. Even if this would be the last time the two got to speak together, Louis was glad he met someone like this boy. Someone who didn’t judge Louis from first impressions. Someone who was glad to take what Louis was ready to offer, who didn’t ask for more.

“Thanks,” Louis mumbled and he felt like he wasn’t just thanking Harry for the kind words. He was glad that Harry didn’t inquire further, that he wasn’t intent on questioning Louis’ plans.

It was still the most honest he’d been with _anyone_ about his hasty departure. He couldn’t really put it into words himself, but the urge to leave London, pursue new destinations, chasing after new sunsets had been keeping him restless for weeks. It wasn’t that he didn’t like London, not that he wasn’t comfortable with the life he had been living there. It was just that while everything and everyone around him had felt right, _he_ hadn’t.

After that, the conversation turned to lighter matters, and soon, Louis found himself easing out of the tension that had been chasing him from London  to Amsterdam, although he’d been hoping to get rid of it as soon as he had boarded the train to Dover.

\------------------------------

It was close to midnight, the bar still crowded enough to make the chatter and laughter of the people around them blur into white noise. He and Harry were still sitting at the counter, sipping on their third round of beers. Harry had stumbled into the tiny bar a while ago, saving Louis from the awkward small-talk he had been having with Nick who was working the bar tonight. Holding a decent conversation with Harry had turned out to be a lot more effortless than Louis had feared and their easy banter left his stomach in an excited turmoil.

Harry spared a glance at his wristwatch, a mirroring image of Niall just a few hours earlier, and frowned. “I’m really sorry to interrupt this, Louis,” he started and Louis read in the crease that was wrinkling his forehead that the regret was genuine. “I really need to go now… I still have a few things to pack for tomorrow.” He extracted a few euros from his wallet and set them next to the empty beer bottle on the counter. “It was lovely to meet you, really,... I guess, I’ll see you around.”

This was it. The last chance he’d get. He stood up as well and grabbed Harry’s arm to stop him from walking away.

“Harry,... wait a second.”

Louis had had a few beers, hoping it would get him to a state of lowered inhibitions and quick-minded wit. Unfortunately, it also meant that the control over his limbs had deteriorated and he was swaying slightly from standing up so quickly. Willing himself to suck it up and focus on the matter at hand, he raised his gaze to meet Harry’s inquiring look. Louis was ready to take his chances. With the last few crumbs of courage he had left, he managed to voice the question that had been niggling at his mind.

“Do you think like, that maybe you’d want company? Like a travel buddy?” he blurted out. For a second, it seemed like Harry wasn’t quite able to follow Louis’ train of thought but then his whole expression lit up and Louis was met with a blinding smile.

“Are you implying that you want to join me?” Harry asked. His tone was excited if yet slightly incredulous. Before Louis got to answer, though, Harry supplied, “Of course, that’d be wonderful! I... I guess, travelling alone sort of scared me, to be honest.”

And that. Well. Harry was this pretty boy brimming with joy and kindness and Louis was possibly somewhat endeared. He couldn’t wait for all the adventures Harry had unknowingly just agreed to.

“Great, I hadn’t actually decided on where I wanted to go from here.” Louis smiled back at Harry, if still a bit tentatively. “I know it’s sort of stupid to ask after you just agreed to take me with you, but... where exactly were you planning to go?”

If possible, Harry’s grin grew even wider and there was a wicked glint in his eyes. Right before Harry answered though, Louis realised he didn’t actually care. It was the journey and not the destination, after all.

\------------------------------

**TRAIN**

Louis usually enjoyed trains. He liked the slurs of landscapes that were passing over his field of vision when he wasn’t sure where they were. They made Louis feel like they were somehow suspended in the distance between what they were leaving behind and everything that was waiting at their point of destination. Normally, he’d become restless after a few hours, needing to get up and do something, instead of simply hanging around lazily. But right now, he was calmer, somehow more settled. A feeling where he just enjoyed being. Being able to look forward to Berlin, being unoccupied, not a single responsibility bugging him or any of his fears nagging him.

The flat landscape of western Germany was flashing by outside the window. The train was only faintly juddering and Louis was currently in that peculiar state somewhere between asleep and awake. He was comfortably squeezed into his seat, his head nuzzled into his jumper that he had turned into a makeshift pillow earlier. Through his half-opened lids he could see that although Harry was awake, he was deeply engrossed in a book. Louis tried to decipher the title but his eyes were still too bleary from sleep. For a while he just watched Harry reading, marvelling at the changes in the other boy’s expression while Harry’s eyes flickered over the pages. Louis had always admired the people that were able to start reading a book and completely give up their own emotions, dreams and desires. Giving them up in favour of soaking up what the book was giving them, quirking up at every ray of joy and feeling an own kind of ache at every twinge of sadness the stories were emanating. And Harry seemed like one of them.

Stacking away this observation, Louis let his gaze wander over Harry’s whole demeanour and admired - not for the first nor the last time - the wild curls framing his face. He let himself drink in the view of Harry’s broad shoulders, clad in a simple tight black tshirt. Louis’ eyes wandered further down and he felt a faint smile tug the corners of his mouth when noticing once again how his legs were entangled with Harry’s. They had somehow ended up this way after trying in vain to get comfortable without crushing each other. They failed. At some point Louis had just given up and put his feet at the edge of Harry’s seat, which had prompted the other boy to do the same. The details of how that had resulted in entangled limbs shedding their warmth on to each other weren’t actually that important, Louis decided. Normally, he wouldn’t fall into someone’s personal space so easily, wouldn’t accept another person’s proximity so quickly. But the calm feeling in Louis’ chest suggested that Harry was the exception to the rule. After all, it was oddly comfortable and that was enough for Louis, right then.

Louis was about to fully close his eyes again when his gaze grazed over it. He remembered scribbling the letters on Harry in retaliation for the streak the other boy had smeared over his upper arm. Instead of drawing a badly sketched out dick or something equally simpleminded, Louis had written a simple _Hi_ on Harry’s arm with the sharpie someone had left on the bar counter. While Louis had still been admiring the artwork adorning Harry’s already heavily tattooed left arm, the curly-headed boy had snatched the pen and put his artistic talent to use. Or had at least tried to. Now both of them had sharpie stains on their fingers and temporary tattoos complementing their real ones and each other. Louis looked down at the scribble on his right upper arm. The day before, he had laughed at the silliness of it, Harry’s hastily scribbled _Oops!_ somehow a half-assed apology on his part for the ugly streak he had left in the first place. Now, Louis felt a sad twinge when he saw that it was already fading away. The tattoo was the only actual evidence he had of the night before.

Last night, Louis had thought that Berlin was sort of the obvious choice for Harry. Louis had only been to the city once and had loved it from the get-go. The city was fun, young and refreshingly _new_ in a way that London probably must have been 10 years ago. To Louis, Berlin practically screamed Harry. Yet, Louis distinctly remembered the hesitant edge to Harry’s tone when he had revealed his - _their_ first stop. Louis didn’t complain, though. Berlin had been at the top of his list for a long time and it was likely that he was even more excited for it than Harry.

After settling that matter, Harry had talked Louis into doing some backpack-trip-kick-off-shots with him. That had been where things had become a lot less civilised and a lot more fun. In between tipsy shenanigans and raucous laughter from both of them, they had found out some more about each other. Things like that they were both going to be studying in London come Autumn or that Harry wanted to go to Paris (if only to see the Eiffel tower), or the fact that they had gone to the same concert by The Script a few years back. It had felt easy with Harry. It still did.

\------------------------------

**BERLIN**

The U-Bahn was rattling along and Harry was drawing patterns onto the truly atrocious upholstery with which the trains were furnished. It was early. Or late, depending if one would consider waking up as the start of a new day. Because they hadn’t gone to bed yet, only now coming back from a night out.

They’d gone to one of the places Harry had gotten off one of his friends who was doing an exchange semester at Universität der Künste.

_“Johnny said the place was kinda weird but that we’d probably like it.”_

Harry had in fact liked it. Louis was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that they’d just spent the better parts of six hours in a place that looked like a dumpster filled with expensively clothed hipsters listening to some weird mix of music Louis had never heard before. Of course Harry had liked it, it had been totally his crowd. Louis had enjoyed watching the strange assortment of people that had gathered at Kater Holzig. Eventually, even Louis had to admit that he was having fun, mood loosened by the alcohol and the joyful buzz of the motley crowd. It had probably been a one off, something they’d only get to experience once, pressed in between people, surrounded by walls that were made out of haphazardly spiked planks. Fairy lights had been the only source of light, illuminating the air around them, giving the place a pleasant dash of familiarity against the outlandish backdrop.

“Can we go to the zoo, Lou?” Harry mumbled against Louis’ temple. He’d thrown his arm around Louis’ shoulder as soon as they’d sat down in the ratty carriage and Louis had reasoned it with Harry’s inebriated state rather than anything else. He wasn’t about to go into that undiscovered territory again. He had struggled enough in the club, constantly trying to pry his eyes away from Harry’s chest, as he had inconsiderately decided earlier on that more than three closed buttons on his shirt was a restriction to his personal freedom. Louis had found it to be the main source for his sexual frustration. It was just that Harry was pretty and bloody attractive and besides who could actually blame Louis for wanting to touch when he wasn’t even alone in his misery? While dancing he’d caught dozens of glances during the night that were directed at Harry’s languid figure. Louis hadn’t exactly liked it. There had been several instances where he had been just about to stake his claim by roughly pulling Harry to his chest, letting everyone know that the other boy was off limits. But of course there hadn’t been - still wasn’t - any claim to stake because Harry wasn’t his and Louis was intent on keeping their friendship alive.

“Sure, we can go, Curly. Need to sleep first, though. Wouldn’t want to have you fall into the elephant’s compound and end up as a mushy pile of limbs,” Louis whispered back, stroking Harry’s hair.

“Hmm,” was the only answer Louis got and he could see that Harry’s lids were threatening to shut his eyes from any sight, droopy around the edges.

When the next stop was announced over the speaker, the yellow train gradually coming to a halt, Harry lowered his head and placed it on Louis’ shoulder, eyes closed and close to the land of dreams. Kalkbrenner’s “S-Bahn” was faintly playing on loop in Louis’ right ear, the song choice stemming from Harry’s insistence to listen to the track - “You only get to do this once, Lou, why not do it properly when in Berlin?” It wasn’t exactly Louis’ kind of music but he found himself - once again this night - enjoying being thrown out of his comfort zone. Harry was there with him along the way, after all.

\------------------------------

There was a quick succession of noises that Louis recognized as a shutter going off a few times in a row. He turned around and suddenly, he was staring directly into the lense of Harry’s camera.

“Get this off,” Louis scoffed at the curly-haired intruder but Harry seemed largely unimpressed and was happily snapping away. “You’ll have to delete half of them anyway. Probably haven’t even got my good side.”

“Shut up,” Harry shot back. The malicious content was lost with the amused smile he was directing at Louis.

They’d fallen into this easy banter ever since boarding the train to Berlin. Both of them had already been exhausted from dragging their rucksacks to the station filled with the souvenirs and memories from Amsterdam. Today was their third day of travelling together and Louis couldn’t believe how much he’d lucked out, so far. How simple and effortless it was to fall into step with Harry. It shouldn’t work, not with Louis constantly on the edge of new undertakings and Harry bumbling along, getting distracted by any kind of oddity every once in a while. Logically, their different paces should have clashed at their first encounter, should have made them trip over each other. Instead, Louis’ vigour seemed to have infected Harry instead of scaring him. Harry’s laughter had become just that tiny bit louder, his smile slightly brighter and there was that glint in his eyes that Louis wasn’t quite able to describe when Harry’s glances were directed at him.

They’d arrived at the Holocaust Memorial at what Louis would consider _illegally_ early under different circumstances but Harry had made him tea that morning and apparently Louis was easily convinced when it came to the curly-headed boy. Getting off the U-Bahn just when the sun was peeking over the roofs of the houses aligned along _Unter den Linden_ , they had taken their time strolling down the boulevard, posing in front of the _Brandenburger Tor_ together, taking advantage of the lack of other tourists. A few minutes ago, Harry’d wandered off through one of the corridors that the massive cubes of the memorial created and Louis could still hear the faint clicking noises of the camera’s shutter going off every once in a while. Harry and Louis seemed to be some of the only tourists who had dragged themselves out of bed this morning. So far, they’d only met a young couple and an elderly looking man with a huge camera while they were walking by, only to watch them disappear into the maze the concrete slabs of the memorial created.

The sun was just peeking out over the higher cubes aligning at one side of the memorial. Louis turned towards the morning sun and closed his eyes to revel in the warmth that was now spreading over his face and neck. This place felt surreal in the most unsettling way, making the hair at Louis’ neck stand and a faint shiver trail down his spine. Maybe it was the heaviness of the events the memorial was a memento of, which was leaving Louis with an uncomfortableness he didn’t think was out of place. The memorial was meant as a reminder for the death of countless numbers of people - Harry had read the entry in the tourist guide to him earlier. A reminder of the deaths of those who died in vain and rendered the pages of the history books bloody and the memories of millions blemished for decades. Strangely enough, Louis was reminded of Egyptian sarcophagi but the analogy felt distorted, the grey cubi denying any obvious interpretation, sitting amidst buildings that clashed with their respective features of too many different styles.

The moment broke when Louis heard the shutter of a camera go off, this time suspiciously close to him. Reluctantly, he turned to face Harry, who was standing right next to him now.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” Louis asked. Harry had caught him in a moment of quiet contemplation, Louis’ mind momentarily distracted from his personal worries that had been constantly making his head ache.

“Yes?” Harry’s answer sounded more like a question than an affirmation and his expression was surprisingly unsure, as if he was wary of Louis’ reaction.

“Why?” Louis continued the questions although he had yet to figure out why he cared so much. There wasn’t anything wrong with Harry taking pictures of him, after all, they were travelling together and he was glad that Harry had happily taken over the job of documenting their adventures. The picture Harry had just taken, however, felt different. Harry’s proximity must have meant that he had gotten a close-up shot of Louis, nothing like a normal tourist picture where you’d normally get more of the scenery than anything else.

A low, incredulous huff escaped Harry at Louis’ question a small frown marring his forehead. “You’re pretty,” Harry merely stated, which pulled Louis out of his thoughts again. Louis hadn’t been expecting that. Hadn’t been prepared for what Harry probably considered blatant honesty. Louis had to be looking rather baffled as well because Harry was still staring at him, the expression in his eyes speaking of something more than genuine interest. His eyes spoke of intent and of longing, sending tingles down Louis’ spine and making his heart beat faster. He could hear the blood rush in his ears. The world seemed to have narrowed down to the two of them standing in the midst of concrete stelae, their two figures lit by the morning sun behind them, long shadows cast over the uneven surroundings.

\------------------------------

“I’m not eating salad out of a pan. This is not happening. I have _standards_ , Harold.” And these standards definitely ruled out eating freshly prepared salad out of anything other than a usual salad bowl.

Not even Harry’s answering pout was going to convince him otherwise. Maybe his sad eyes, though. Louis didn’t like seeing Harry sad. It was up somewhere along with disappointed toddlers and bad chocolate. Unacceptable. The idea still wasn’t appealing enough, however.

After an exhausting day spent at Checkpoint Charlie and the Wall Memorial together with what should be an illegal amount of tourists crammed into the same space, they’d decided to have an early dinner at the hostel so they could go out again later. Preparing dinner had turned into a demanding task, considering the hostel kitchen was barely stocked for _any_ kind of cooking. It might have been enough for what Louis required for when he was “cooking” - which mostly consisted of pouring a bowl of cereal, or heating leftovers from the takeaway he’d ordered the night before. Louis had soon found out that Harry could _actually_ cook - as in prepare proper warm meals - and look after himself, so this kitchen fell short of what Harry had expected to find. The lack of useful kitchen utensils had brought them to where they were now: forced to eat salad from a pan because - according to whoever had stocked this kitchen - bowls didn’t fall into the category “basic kitchen paraphernalia”.

“C’mon, Lou. I can’t eat all of it alone.” Harry was making proper puppy eyes now, and Louis was congratulating himself on keeping up his resistance this long already. He also hadn’t missed the nickname and decidedly ignored the way his heart had skipped a beat at the sound of it. Louis knew he was being ridiculous. That didn’t make it any less fun to leave Harry hanging for a bit longer. Eventually, he’d have to give in anyway what with how he’d contributed an impressive amount of the various ingredients that were now mixed into their salad. He’d been eager to indulge Harry in his quest for a healthy dinner, even if Louis wasn’t normally a very devoted fan of healthy nutrition. Apparently, Harry made him agree to stupid things like _folding his clothes_ or given the current situation, _cook dinner_. Or at least assisting in the process. He still didn’t trust himself enough with anything that involved a stove and torrid heat.

“I’m still trying to accommodate to the thought of only using one set of plates, Harry. You can’t expect me to drop _all_ my habits.” He was openly mocking Harry now, offering a smug grin. There was a faint smile slowly taking over Harry’s features, one of his dimples only showing the tiniest bit. Louis poked Harry’s cheek where his dimple would normally show - he’d no idea what he wanted to achieve with that but was saved from lengthy contemplation when Harry got his revenge by poking Louis’ stomach instead.

“Oh, we’re taking out the secret weapons now?” Harry’s answer merely consisted of raising his eyebrows that Louis took as an invitation. He surged forward and dug his fingers into Harry’s stomach, making the other boy squirm and giggle.

“‘M… not… ticklish,” Harry barely managed to huff out in between the giggles and his efforts to free himself from Louis’ attack. Louis let out a breathy laugh at that. The way Harry’s eyes were squinted from his laughter and the expression of utter delight in his features made Louis feel breathless. Harry was beautiful like that - completely free from tension. In an attempt to pry Louis’ hands away, Harry turned his back to him, shielding his stomach. He obviously hadn’t thought it through, since there was nothing covering his waist now. Louis took the opportunity and moved his hands to the uncovered area. As soon as his fingers dug in the skin there, Harry let out a high-pitched squeal, turning around again to face Louis. Trying to find a different way to escape Louis’ ruthless hands, he moved backwards, Louis following him without hesitation.

Harry bumped into the counter behind him, the challenging look in his face turning into one of slight surprise when he found himself with no way to escape. Louis had followed every single one of his movements and he was practically crowding Harry against the counter now, their bodies almost aligned, a mere inch of air separating them. Noticing their proximity, Louis thought there should be something akin to sparks springing between their bodies - he felt electric, charged as if a few hundred volts were dancing over his skin, making his hair stand up. Harry was doing this to him. Or rather, the thought of what Harry _might_ do to him. Louis’ hands were placed on each side of the counter next to Harry’s hips. Ever so slowly, Louis raised his head, forced to look up to lock his gaze with Harry’s and the thought made his hands tighten their grip on the cold granite. They were so close that Louis _felt_ Harry’s ragged breaths on his face, the air tickling Louis’ cheeks. He watched Harry’s gaze linger on his lips and couldn’t stop himself from staring at Harry’s lips in return. They were plump and pink, and Louis found himself wondering if Harry would lean into him if Louis were to kiss him right now. He felt his cheeks heat up with the image that was now burned into his forehead. His knees went weak when he wondered how Harry’s lips might feel on his, teeth grazing along Louis’ neck, his mouth sucking a love bite into the skin right beneath Louis’ jaw.

And Louis was clearly getting ahead of himself. They’d barely fallen into the simple dynamic they were upholding now, only met a few days ago, started travelling together even later. Sure, it hadn’t felt like they were two strangers embarking on an adventure together, more like long-lost acquaintances rekindling a friendship they’d forgotten the value of. But except for a few wandering thoughts and unasked-for mental imagery on Louis’ part, neither of them had hinted at the possibility of this being more than two blokes having a good, _friendly_ time together.

This was different, though. _Felt_ different.

Holding Louis’ gaze, Harry lifted his right hand and let his finger travel along Louis’ upper arm, making the muscles in his arm spring under the tender touch. Almost automatically, Louis’ body swayed closer, fitting himself against Harry’s front. Vaguely, Louis contemplated how much further they could play like this before either of the two started asking questions. And _shit_ , Louis had already opened the can of worms that lead to futile reflection and made him turn over everything _twice_ in his mind. With reassuring tentativeness, Louis registered that Harry hadn’t done anything to stop him yet, his small gesture neither stopping nor inviting any further actions on Louis’ part. It made Louis wonder if Harry wanted this as much as Louis did. As much as he was at loss when it came to Harry’s sexuality, the current state Harry was in made it clear that Harry wasn’t opposed to Louis’ proximity, at least. Studying the other boy’s face, Louis found Harry’s pupils blown wide, only a hint of their usual green discernable, his pink lips slightly parted as if in awe. Harry’s stance was practically inviting Louis to get even closer. And so he did.

Closely watching Harry’s face, he placed both of his hands on Harry’s chest. The thin shirt Harry was wearing meant that his tattoos were visible through the sheer fabric and the urge to trace the outlines of the ink with his tongue was gripping at Louis’ mind. They were still too far apart to easily fall into a kiss and yet Louis knew that this was where this was heading. The crinkles from Harry’s laughter had been smoothed out and Harry’s face was blank now, denying Louis the certainty that they were on the same page here.

Before either of them could get any closer, though, the arrival of a bunch of other guests into the kitchen made them glaringly aware of their current state. Louis took a step back then, trying to get a decent amount of space between himself and Harry and a normal amount of air back into his lungs. Yet, the deep breaths he was taking now were doing nothing to loosen the tight knot in his throat.

What the fuck had just happened? Whatever had just shifted between them was nowhere near the casual kind of foolery Louis expected to come out of their situation. He couldn’t do this anymore though, swore to himself that he wouldn’t let himself do casual anymore, stop caving for any kind of intimacy he could get. Despite his lack of experience with everything non-casual, Louis felt with an unsettling certainty that in spite of the low pull in his stomach that he usually related to arousal, there still was a vibrant warmth expanding in his chest that hadn’t faded, even now that there was a considerable distance between him and Harry. God, Louis didn’t _know_. The only thing bright and clear in his head was that he _wanted_. Wanted so, so much. And Harry just made him giddy all the time, riled him up and then left him hanging in the next moment. And Louis didn’t know how much of it was just playful banter to Harry and how much of it meant more, aggrandized to different, _higher_ levels of happiness.

\------------------------------

They were surrounded by a mob. One that was fairly loud and antsy. Too many people were bustling around them, shouting over each other, snippets of conversations that Louis didn’t understand. Louis took to it like a duck to water. The crowd resembled the one you’d find on Portobello Road on a Saturday morning; buzzing with energy despite the inebriated excesses of the previous night, eager to discover hidden treasures or spot the next bargain. Louis felt Harry stumbling along with him, always close, always touching him somehow. A brush of their hands, a gentle nudge of their shoulders, a shy mumbled comment that Harry placed next to Louis’ ear.

They’d reached one of the exits of the market and decided to take a break and sit down. The faint sounds of various instruments playing a foreign rhythm were hovering in the air around them. Looking around, Louis spotted the source of the music and watched the three young men blending their instruments into an exotic rhythm. The music filled out the air around them and  Louis felt like dancing. He _liked_ dancing. He hadn’t really started any busker-accompanied impromptu dance performance lately so _why the hell not now?_ Harry hadn’t witnessed one either since they started their trip together, so there was that. He left Harry standing close to where the rest of the spectators had gathered and moved into the circle. Grabbing the hands of a couple of people nearest to him he drew them in and started to spin around. Soon, other people were plucking up their courage and joining them. Louis was spinning around, swaying his hips to rhythm of the cajón. His surroundings transformed into a blur of colours, his eyes unable to focus on anything steady because of the speed of his movements. Every once in a while he grabbed another person’s hand, swirled them around, made more people join them.

He loved it. Louis knew he had to be making a complete fool of himself. But then he remembered Harry. Harry who hadn’t joined the dancing group and that was clearly _wrong_. Louis saw that he was still watching the group, yet his expression had changed dramatically. Instead of a joyful grin, his brows were furrowed and Louis couldn’t believe it but it looked like Harry was pouting. He hadn’t noticed Louis looking at him yet, though, and continued to shoot disapproving glances at the people dancing around Louis. Since Louis had made it his first priority to keep Harry happy, changing Harry’s mood was top priority right now. So, Louis practically bounced over to the younger boy and he knew he looked ridiculous but Harry was going to join him soon so they could act ridiculous together. When Harry looked at him, his features softened and the grim expression turned into a happy smirk. Louis could still see the disapproval in Harry’s eyes but chose to let it go. They were going to have _fun_. And Harry didn’t stand a chance if he intended to keep up the glum look.

But he _was_ smiling at Louis now, so. Louis took one of Harry’s hands into his and pulled him into the dancing group. The band was still playing upbeat songs so most of the people were jumping around energetically, moving to the beat of the music. Harry’s hand was still enveloping Louis’ and so Louis swirled him around, making the younger boy twirl. For all of Harry’s miffed look just a few minutes earlier, he was warming up quickly, with Louis guiding him through their clumsy impromptu dance. By the end of the song, Harry looked like he was brimming with joy. Even though he danced like a newborn fawn, he was clearly enjoying himself and that’s all Louis was asking for. 

The band changed into a slower song, leaving the dancing crowd to break into smaller groups that soon dissolved. Harry and Louis were the only ones still dancing, even though they were only gently swaying along, their fingers still interlinked. Eventually, Louis stopped his movements and tugged Harry along to go sit down. First, it seemed like Harry wanted to pull Louis back, make him stop in his movements, but when Louis shot a glance back at him, he had already caught up with him. Louis didn’t let go of Harry, even when they were sitting down on the ground and leant their backs against a small rock in the grass. Despite the buzzing joy that was still pumping through his mind, Louis felt oddly calm. Harry's large hand was still clad around Louis' and Louis didn’t really see why he should let go anytime soon when they fit so nicely. 

“You okay?” Harry murmured beside him, his mouth ghosting over Louis shoulder, eyes peeking up through his lashes.

“Hmm.”

“You’re a good dancer, Lou,” Harry mumbled, barely audible over the music.

“Don’t take the piss,” Louis retorted. Harry raised his head at that, forehead scrunched in a frown.

“I’m serious, Louis. I like dancing with you.” Oh, Louis liked the sound of _that_. Their hands were still interlinked, their shoulders pressed together and creating a soothing kind of warmth.

It was nothing. This meant nothing. Or not enough to read anything into it. Harry was handsy with everyone, at least the people they’d met so far. Louis didn't think it meant anything, and yet he felt himself wanting it to. He was scared, though. Scared to travel farther alongside Harry. Harry, who would soon find out that travelling was what kept them together. A shared love for travelling, smelling the scents of foreign cities, squinting at the city lights of undiscovered streets, feeling the warm air of exotic climates brush over their skin. It was that, and not something Louis hoped it would be.

Yet, Louis wanted the small gesture to mean more. He knew this was still so early on, with all the cities they still wanted to see together and he wasn’t sure if he would ruin everything if he read too much into this. Harry wasn’t exactly cautious around him, but Louis had the feeling his travel companion wasn’t fully in his element. And this wasn’t right. Louis wanted Harry to be happy. He wanted Harry to be able to fully enjoy this. Letting go of all restraints. Feeling completely alive with every cell and fibre of his being. Never looking back at what he left behind. He’d be back to reality soon enough, Louis knew as much.

He placed his head on Harry’s shoulder and closed his eyes, taking in the moment, the smell of the lovely boy beside him, the collar of Harry’s shirt brushing Louis’ cheek. He felt Harry’s thumb draw circles onto the back of his hand. Focusing on the tenderness of the touch, he tried to discern the patterns, but they didn’t make any sense to him and even if he could decipher them, he wasn’t really sure he wanted to know what they meant.

\------------------------------

**PRAGUE**

 

So this. This might be his favourite spot so far. He let his eyes roam over the colour-explosion in front of them, trying to take it all in, memorise some of his favourite parts. Lennon’s face blown into larger-than-life proportions was dominating one part of the facade, the bold letters spelling LASKÀ were monopolizing another section. Louis wouldn’t have called the wall exactly pretty -  there were too many different shades and styles and colours mixed for it to form a harmonious composition - but that was probably the appeal of it. In the effort to recall what the travel guide had said about the Lennon Wall, Louis almost missed how Harry was frantically rummaging in his backpack.

“Harry? What’s up?” Louis queried, his voice strained with uncertainty about Harry’s state. Harry’s head snapped up when Louis touched his shoulder lightly. With faint relief, Louis found Harry’s face indeed furrowed in concentration but the desperation he’d expected to find was thankfully left wanting.

As if shaking himself out of his thoughts, Harry cleared his throat and replied: “D’you have a pen? I want to write something on it.”

Reaching around for his backpack, he remembered the sharpie he’d stowed away back in Amsterdam. He’d swiped it from the bar counter when Harry and he had stumbled off to their respective rooms, buzzed with a couple of beers and the debris of their conversation.

The memory, however, was a weak reverberation of the actual events. Finally, he handed Harry the sharpie and waited expectantly.

“What are you gonna write?”

“I thought something like, you know, connected to freedom. Or love.” The firm tone of Harry’s voice lead Louis to assume that this wasn’t the first time he thought about it.

“Or both,” Louis supplied.

“There’s this quote from a book I read when I was in Amsterdam and I really liked it. It’s from ‘Perks of Being a Wallflower’.” Harry’s stance was wary, ready to cave at the first assault, and Louis wanted to hug him. Envelop Harry in his arms, shielding him from any abhorrent outer force that had the audacity to question this boy’s beautiful mind. Louis prayed to any deity that might listen to him that Harry would never be forced to change even an iota of his personality. And yet, Louis wasn’t above mocking Harry just to see the other boy get riled up.

“Harold, you’re going to be an English Lit student and you want to tell me that you aren’t going to quote some illustrious classic like Brontë, Wilde or Shakespeare?” Louis joked, fake-disappointment in his voice.

“Shakespeare’s overrated. And I guess, YA lit is just generally underrated and I can really relate to that quote,” Harry threw back. Briefly, he searched for a good spot to place his quote and started writing when he found one. As soon as he was finished, he stepped back, pleased smile tugging on his lips, and studied his little piece of art.

Louis stepped forward to read the short verse, black letters standing out on the pink background. There between much larger and more colourful writings were the words Harry had scribbled, the lines jittery on the uneven base:

_And in that moment, I swear we were infinite._

Louis’ mind was replete with puzzlement. He was neither disappointed nor surprised that that was the quote Harry had chosen. But there was a daunting anticipation enclosing Louis’ chest. He knew with almost absolute certainty that this was something invaluably close to Harry and what made him the person he was. Louis wasn’t going to be the one who dared disturb that.

“I don’t really know what to make of it, to be honest,” Louis admitted tentatively, “How do you relate to it?” For an almost unbearable moment, Harry remained silent and Louis began to worry that he might have stepped into forbidden territory with that question.

“I guess - It’s hard to explain it without the context of the book, you know. But like. Basically, I want to be able to say this phrase at some point in my life and _genuinely_ mean it,” Harry explained. Louis’ face must have still shown his confusion and so Harry continued: “You know, that moment when you’re so happy you feel like you can reach out to all ends of the world and yet your feet haven’t left the ground. D’you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Louis mumbled, his mouth dry and his hands jittery.

They stayed for a few minutes longer - Louis had already gotten used to Harry’s tireless eagerness when it came to documenting their trip and so he let the curly-headed boy snap away happily. Louis once again tried to catalogue the countless scribblings in his mind and ended up overwhelmed by the amount of heartfelt emotions, dreams and desires the visitors of this place had perpetuated on these walls. According to their guide, the different images were constantly painted over, covered up by new artworks and the magnitude of personalised history made Louis feel lightheaded, incredibly small and insignificant.

When Harry returned to him, Louis smiled reassuringly at him. The thought of Harry sharing such an integral part of himself with Louis made his heart race and a consoling warmth was spreading through his limbs down to his toes.

“You ready to go?” Harry nodded in response.

“I want to get one of these things Niall told me about. Like, they’re these deep fried dough patches and you eat them with Ketchup and cheese, apparently,” Harry told him, fiddling with the pocket of his jeans.

“Ok, but Harry, you realise that sounds like an awful combination, right?” Louis mocked, “How do I know I can trust Niall’s judgement on culinary debaucheries like this one?”

“Have you actually _met_ Niall?” Harry huffed incredulously.

Ah, right. Louis possibly featured a shortage of knowledge on that front. “Unlike others, I haven’t been friends with him for _ages_ , Haz. So, I don’t exactly think I’m qualified to make any assumptions about his... nutritional preferences.”

“That’s about the first thing you notice about Niall, though. I guess. At least that was probably the first thing he told me about when we met. That he loves food a lot.”

“In that case, I’m fine with trying… whatever that thing is called.”

“He actually said he wanted to meet you. Niall, you know. Like, properly this time when we… I mean, when we’re back in London. And only if you… if you still want to hang out. Then. I know you’ve got your friends at home and like, I’ve got Niall but… and we we’re getting along really well and. I just thought…”

“I’d love to hang out when we’re back in London, Harry,” Louis stopped Harry’s verbal waffling. Harry’s cheeks had turned a deep crimson and Louis could have dismissed it with the heavy midday sun burning down on them but he was pretty sure their exchange had something to do with it.

Stopping mid-step, Louis grabbed Harry’s elbow so that he’d look at Louis. The sunlight was making it hard to look up but Louis was adamant about this, needed Harry to know that Louis didn’t regret or resent anything about this. Well, maybe he did regret some things that had happened over the last few days but none of them could be blamed on Harry, instead Louis had grudgingly accepted to see them as a result of his lack of restraint and the inability to keep his stupid feelings at bay. _Anyway_. This was more important right now.

“And for the record: I’m really glad we’re doing this together. I like travelling with you.”

Harry’s answer consisted of a blinding smile, the one that brought out the dimples and made his eyes sparkle. And did eyes even sparkle? Louis didn’t know but it was exactly what Harry’s smile did to the boy’s features. Louis was trying to get his heart beat back to its normal rhythm, momentarily affected by the direct confrontation with the full force of Harry’s charm.

“I’m just checking what they’re called… Niall sent me the name a couple of days ago.” Harry was reading something on his phone then, brows raised in disbelief. “So, these things are called - Trdelník.”

“Yeah, scratch that, Harold. ‘M not gonna eat something that sounds like it was already eaten once,” Louis exclaimed, mock-revulsion heavily accentuated in the tone of his voice.

\------------------------------

It was hot. Hot, hot, hot. And loud. The dancing lights made Louis’ head swim. Or maybe it was the fruity drink he’d downed earlier. He and Harry were dancing together with what felt like 200 other people in what used to be an old swimming pool. The music was loud. Too loud, but Louis didn’t care because they were in Prague and having fun and Harry was there with him and Louis was proper-... probably on the drunk side of... things. Stuff. Whatever. All he could see were colourful blobs and sparkly edges and arms and shoulders bumping into him. His shirt was plastered against his chest, the heat and humidity in the dim light of the club making Louis sweat. In front of him, Harry was awkwardly swaying his hips to the rhythm of the thrumming speakers, long limbs flailing in the tight space the crammed crowd allowed. On any other night, Louis would have made fun of Harry’s dancing style - or rather lack thereof - but talking and standing and articulating himself right now, was hard. So he just giggled to himself, his gaze gliding over Harry’s body, lingering on all the places he didn’t allow himself normally. When he stopped at Harry’s eyes, the other boy was already staring back at him, his movement having slowed down considerably. Harry stepped closer, careful not to elbow anyone, and placed his hand on the nape of Louis’ neck and his face right next to Louis’. Louis’ knees almost buckled at the touch, his mind going completely blank. Harry was too close, closer than he would’ve normally got - even if he was normally handsy. His hand was gripping Louis’ hair at the back of his head now, and the slight ache helped Louis to focus again. Right. Focus. Because Harry was yelling something in his ear now, the syllables getting lost in the deafening music. Louis only just caught the last bit of what Harry’d shouted.

“... drinks. Should I get you something?” Louis could totally do more alcohol. Because alcohol was his friend. And alcohol made everyone prettier. Even Harry, although Louis had thought that was impossible. So, yes, more alcohol.

“‘Nother one of that nice pink stuff,” he purred into Harry’s neck. Except no. Louis didn’t purr, he wasn’t a cat - the attribute much more fitting for Harry. And apparently Louis was being funny because Harry was laughing now, the sound of his laughter drowned in the music, but his face scrunched up in a grimace, eyes crinkled by the laughter taking over his features.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, love. But, I’ll see what I can do.” Harry sounded smug. That bastard. He wasn’t supposed to be smug about Louis wanting more alcohol. This wasn’t a laughing matter - even though alcohol made Louis feel all funny and stupid. Louis was just about to give a witty answer but Harry had already made his way through the throng of people somewhere in the direction of the bar. And Louis was left alone on the dance floor.

A few songs passed and Louis was still alone and Harry had remained out of sight. Suddenly, Louis felt someone getting closer from behind him, attaching their hips to Louis’ arse rather roughly. The bloke that was currently trying to guide Louis’ hips with his own movements was fairly tanned, judging from the dark skin of his arms that were wrapped around Louis’ chest. To get a better view at the sudden intruder, Louis turned around and was forced to look up - too far up - to be met by the scruffy face of tall and lean bloke. Quickly examining his face, Louis noticed that the guy couldn’t be much older than him. The bloke was smirking when Louis met his eyes and laughed out loud when he noticed Louis’ raised eyebrows. And huh. The bloke’s laugh was open-mouthed and there was something glistening on his tongue, too distinct to be a trick of the light. Louis realised that it had to be a _fucking_ tongue piercing. And he was intrigued. Smirking back at the guy still pressed to his backside, he turned around and tried to adjust to the unsteady rhythm of the unfamiliar body. He didn’t have any intention of getting with someone - what with Harry being left alone in that case - but if those were the prospects, he wasn’t inclined to say no. He was still hot but now he wasn’t alone anymore. And this was fun, more fun than he had before but then again less fun because Harry wasn’t here and Louis should probably stop thinking because in combination with alcohol it was making his brain hurt. Tall Bloke was still plastered to his back, not really letting Louis decide any of his movements. The alcohol still made his mind feel afloat, his vision blurry. All of a sudden, though, his dancing partner had vanished from his backside and a cool draft of air was tickling at his back.

Hands that were too gentle to be from any of the people bumping against him were roaming over his back now. It was a tender, lingering touch at the small of his back and Louis knew exactly who it was. Without turning around, he reached behind himself and pulled Harry's arms around his chest, leaning back into the new and yet familiar heat that was Harry. Their bodies were pressed to each other, no inch of space between them. Louis felt too hot. Too hot for him to be able to process anything that was happening and so he didn’t stop. He didn't stop when he felt Harry’s crotch grinding against his arse and he didn't stop when his body practically melted with the taller boy’s movements. Against his better judgement, he threw his head back, moaning with the pleasure the complete alignment of their bodies caused him. Tall-bloke was gone but Harry was here instead. And that was so much better.

He felt Harry’s lips at his right ear, moving against it when he spoke, Louis’s skin prickling with the sensation.

“Hi.” There was nothing timid about the short greeting, Harry’s voice low and gravelly. He was grinding slowly, intently against Louis now and a different kind of heat settled low in Louis’ stomach.

“Hi yourself,” Louis retorted and wasn’t quite able to keep the strain out of his voice. His head was swimming with something different than alcohol right now, pulsing in time with the pooling heat in his stomach.

Louis had turned his head so that Harry had been able to hear him. Therefore, their faces were only inches apart and if Louis just slightly turned his head, their lips would meet. Louis wanted to - _needed_ to kiss Harry in that moment, Harry’s lips plump and pink and inviting Louis to taste. And so he did.

As soon as their lips connected, Louis closed his eyes, unable to look into the other boy’s eyes, if Harry were to push him away. But he didn’t. Instead, he kissed back just as eagerly, raising his hands to frame Louis’ face. The angle was awkward and they were both sweaty, surrounded by complete strangers. But Louis was finally kissing Harry and Harry was actually kissing him back so everyone else could just kindly _foutre le camp_. And Harry was licking into Louis’ mouth now, sucking on his tongue as if to absorb the sugary taste the alcohol had left in his mouth. A small groan escaped Louis’ throat and Harry kissed him even harder preventing the sound from escaping their mouths.

Louis’ neck started to ache under the strain the angle put on it and so he turned around completely, never disconnecting his lips from Harry’s in the process. He wanted so much, now that he finally got to kiss Harry, wanted so much more and was willing to take everything Harry gave him. He was drunk on Harry and still drunk on the sugary shots he’d done earlier and so he crowded closer to Harry again and shoved one of his legs between Harry’s. They were still dancing - even though their movements were slower and with more intent - and thankfully still kissing. Their kisses were heated and erratic - all tongue and teeth - but so, so good that Louis wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

Harry was bending his knees now, bringing his crotch lower, so that it was on the same height as Louis’. Louis didn’t hesitate a second and started grinding on Harry’s thigh, practically dry-humping the other boy in a room full of people.

Their kiss ended abruptly when Louis felt a firm hand on his chest, pushing him away. Harry had also stopped dancing which forced Louis to stop, too. Reluctantly, Louis peeled away from Harry’s lips. Harry wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he turned his back to him, one hand forming a tight grip around Louis’ wrist, pulling Louis along with him. Vaguely, Louis was aware that people were throwing them annoyed glances, disapproving of the way Harry was hastily weaving them through the crowd.

Lost, Louis felt utterly lost because he hadn’t seen Harry’s face, didn’t know why they’d suddenly stopped kissing, why they were leaving. His head was still swimming in the backwash of the exuberant combination of alcohol and _Harry_. Finally, they were outside the club, the fresh air of the mild summer night filling Louis’ lungs and slowly abolishing the sluggish drag his mind had acquired. At some point, Harry had let go of him, taking the last few steps alone. He was leaning against the wall of the building now, hands covering his face, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Louis stepped up to Harry, closing the distance between them and wanted to dive in for another kiss. Harry’s raised hand stopped him though, once again pushing Louis away, hand firm on his chest. Louis was searching for Harry’s gaze, to see something, _anything_ , a hint at what the fuck was actually happening.

“Don’t - Louis. I can’t.” Harry was struggling with articulating himself, Louis could tell as much. “Not like that.” He vaguely registered that Harry was finally looking at him, his features distorted by a pained expression. But Louis was falling. Falling into a dark hole with no ground in sight, Harry’s rejection had tipped him over the edge.

“Louis - Just. Would you fucking look at me for a second?!” Harry was yelling now, even though he was still standing close to Louis. Nothing was making any sense. Why should Louis look at him if Harry didn’t want him? Liquid nitrogen was dribbling down his windpipe, every breath accompanied by a stinging pain. Embarrassment was heating his cheek and closing up his throat. He felt a warm hand hook under his chin and raising his head, forcing him to look up into Harry’s face. At the sight of Harry’s eyes, Louis felt tears prickling at the outer corners of his eyes making his vision blurry around the edges. He was looking at Harry now, though, and noticed hazily that Harry’s features had softened ever since Louis met his gaze again.

His expression was still filled with pain but every trace of abrasiveness had dissolved. Instead, Louis found an almost desperate streak in Harry’s eyes and didn’t understand. Was Harry playing with him?

“Louis.” It sounded like he was pleading with him. Harry tried to take Louis’ hands in his, but Louis couldn’t touch him now, didn’t need a physical reminder of Harry’s presence, the whirring in his mind enough of a burden.

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry repeated. “Don’t - I don’t want you to think that this is me rejecting you.”

“But that’s what you just did, Harry. You pushed me away.” Louis’ voice broke on the last two syllables. It was the first time he had spoken since they’d gotten outside.

“Because I didn’t want this to be another drunken mistake,” Harry huffed, clearly strained from their fight. And this. Well, this just settled it, didn’t it? Apparently the two of them had started out on completely different pages. Fuck, were probably reading entirely different books. And screw the analogy really, because every poetic aspect of this shit aside, Harry had just fucking shattered Louis’ heart.

“Fuck you, too, Harry,” Louis bellowed, which caught him a couple of disapproving glances from a bundle of passers-by. Louis couldn’t be arsed to care what anyone else thought about Harry and him right now, the only thing he needed was to get out of there. He turned away from the club entrance and from Harry who was still staring at him. Not even bothering to look back, Louis was ready to run away from this place. But he was still swaying slightly, the pathetic remnants of alcohol prowling around his head, making it hard to walk steady.

Louis reached the corner of the block, his steps echoed off the walls of the massive buildings surrounding that particular part of the town. He didn’t get much further though, lean fingers wrapping around both his arms, a jolt of electricity shooting down his spine. Harry. Harry was still affecting him, even if he had turned Louis down. He still made it hard to breathe and even harder to think straight.

“Lou, just please stop and listen for a moment, please” he practically begged. The desperation in Harry’s voice made Louis’ heart hurt, proving that he was still unable to let anything hurt Harry, even if Louis had lost his shot at being loved in return. Reluctantly, he turned around, back to facing Harry.

“I’ll listen to you, but I don’t want you to touch me.” Louis was lying - _lying_. He couldn’t recall a time where he hadn’t wanted Harry to touch him, connect both their skins, revelling in the pleasant shock it sent through his veins. But he needed to focus for this, keeping his mind clear of any grey area and Harry’s touch was definitely a major distraction.

“Can we - Can we sit down for this?” Harry was pointing at an old bench that stood under a broad tree, creating a false sense of idyll.

Once they were seated, Harry immediately started talking, seemingly eager to clear up whatever needed clarification.

“First, I didn’t reject you in the club.” He paused and raised a hand when he saw that Louis already wanted to interject. “I said ‘no’ to you, that’s true, but… Shit, Louis, don’t ever think it was because I didn’t want you.”

Louis’ mind had gone blank.

“Just.. Fuck, Louis, I want you so much I almost came right there and then in the club with all these people around us and I needed to step away because I - Well, I guess, because I didn’t want this to become a situation where I was the only one that was pushing and pulling.”

Louis was pretty sure this was the most and the fastest he’d ever heard Harry talk. Louis’ brain, however, was soon too taken over by the thought of Harry coming in his trousers because of Louis, because dancing and grinding against Louis had turned him on that much. If Louis had been in any other position than Harry had just described to him, he definitely would have reflected thoroughly on Harry’s sanity. As it was though, he was preoccupied with avoiding an embarrassing hard on from the visuals alone.

“Please say something, Lou.” The use of the familiar nickname made Louis jolt out of his thoughts. Harry wanted him. Not like a platonic dude pal bro, although they could certainly still benefit from the fact that they’d practically become best friends somewhere between Amsterdam and the Petřín Tower. But Harry also wanted to do things with Louis. Like kiss and touch and rile each other up and whatever else was includedd in it.

“If you’re really still wondering whether I might want you, pal, I’m seriously reconsidering,” Louis supplied. They’d slowly shuffled back into each other’s space, their shoulders now firmly pressed together and Louis hooked his foot around Harry’s ankle. “Of course I want you, Curly.

“I’ve never done this before,” Harry admitted. And fuck, his voice still held a hint of uncertainty in it. “Like, travelling with someone and spending so much time with them and then this…” He gestured between the two of them, seemingly at loss for a name for it.

“I’m as much at loss as you are, Haz,” Louis confessed. “I mean, I’ve done casual before but I’m. To be honest, H, I’m not sure casual is what I want with you.” Louis could hear Harry’s breath hitch with his last sentence. He’d just thrown all of his cards on the table, open handed, nothing left to lose. He should be more scared but Harry’s presence kept all fear out of his conscience.

“I’m sure it’s not going to be simple, Louis. But what if we take this step by step, I mean, deciding as we go?”

“Yeah, that sounds… I can work with that. We don’t have to put a name on it if we can’t define it ourselves, right?” Louis suggested. He was practically in Harry’s lap now, legs thrown over his lap, his arm reaching over the other boy’s shoulder.

“Mhm, I think I’m okay with that,” Harry answered. “So, does this mean we can kiss again? Because kissing’s great.”

“You were the one who stopped last time, H.” And without waiting for Harry’s reply he stretched up again and met Harry’s mouth with another kiss.

When he remembered another part of the club scene, he broke their kiss and this time it was Harry who was begrudgingly pulling away.

“You know that guy in the club had a tongue piercing, you robbed me off a potentially fantastic snog there.” He paused to see Harry’s reaction and saw Harry’s forehead contorting in a disgruntled frown. “What can you offer as a compensating asset? Since you clearly _don’t_ have a piercing.” Louis was clearly joking, but Harry’s gaze darkened significantly at the mention of the other bloke. _Fascinating_.

“How can you be so sure I don’t have any piercings? You haven’t seen all of me.” Harry didn’t add the “yet” but with the way his grin turned into a smug smirk, challenge in his eyes, Louis did get his hopes up. Even if they still had a long way to go.

\------------------------------

Louis felt like he might have to cough up his lungs. The run from the metro to the bus station had only been about half a mile but with their huge backpacks strapped to them and the exhaustion of the last few days weighing them down, it had been one hell of a run. With the last few breaths he seemed to have left, Louis rounded the corner and only just in time to witness their bus to Switzerland drive out of the station, leaving them behind. They had missed their bus. They had missed the _bloody_ bus to Berne where they were supposed to meet up with one of Louis’ friends. Louis felt annoyance take over his mind. Harry and Louis were both panting, embarrassingly out of breath from the short run they'd just completed.

“Shit,” Harry spat out the words as soon as he’d gathered enough breath. He said it with an air of amused nonchalance though and that was what tipped Louis over the edge.

“Yeah, _shit_ , H,” he practically yelled at Harry, obviously missing the joke in this. “This isn’t funny, for god’s sake.” Louis didn’t have an ounce of patience left in him, the events of the last few days still weighing down on his chest. “We’re stuck in fucking Prague and all because you wanted to do some more sightseeing.“

He watched Harry flinch at Louis’ last sentence and saw how the amusement vanished from Harry’s eyes. There we have it. This wasn’t the time to joke. Louis couldn’t quite figure out why he was angry - whether it was the cumulated cases of _almost_ missing their connections in the past and then eventually actually _missing_ one or the exhaustion of travelling and the partying from the last few days catching up with him - but he was still angry. Angry that they now had to deal with all this crap; trying to get their reservations changed, let Janine know they wouldn’t make it on time and then find a way to spend the time until their next bus. The prevailing lack of English skills of the locals was definitely not working in their favour either.

“How should I’ve known that it would take us this long? Public transport’s stupid,” Harry replied and he was at least trying to contain his annoyance at the situation.

It was all Harry’s fault after all. He’d been the one to suggest they’d take the streetcar instead of the metro so they could take in the city one last time. They hadn’t even considered it would take them any longer, but it had, the tram almost going half the pace the underground was.

“Well, yeah, still your fault, though.” Louis voiced his thoughts and he knew it wasn’t _actually_ all on Harry what with how Louis had practically jumped on the idea as soon as Harry’d suggested it. The prospect of lazily lounging in their seats while getting to watch Prague’s scenery pass by _had been_ a dangerously tempting one, at first. Louis wasn’t going to back down now, though. In for a penny and all that.

“Right, obviously. Since you were so against the idea” Harry shot back and Louis felt caught red-handed. This row really was stupid and yet Louis couldn’t find a way to end it. Clearly, if there was going to be an apology, it wasn’t going to come from _him_.

“Whatever.” Louis didn’t have the patience for this anymore. “I’m going to see if we can do anything about tickets since _you_ obviously don’t give a shit.” He stomped off towards the ticket booth, not looking back once, although he could’ve sworn he heard Harry call after him.

While waiting in the queue, Louis had some time to go over the little fight again. Fighting with Harry completely threw him off. He wasn’t used to _not_ getting along with Harry, wasn’t used to being on the boy’s wrong side. Louis’ skin was itching with the remnants off their harsh exchange.

When it was his turn, he tried to explain with hands and feet why they’d missed the bus, the difficult task providing a welcome distraction from the heavy feeling in his stomach. However, the woman behind the counter caught on rather quickly to what Louis was trying to say and so Louis ended up with a new set of tickets way too quickly. His skin was itching at the thought of having to find Harry now. He didn’t want Harry to think _Louis_ would be the one to cave first and yet Louis had to let the other boy know about their next connection. As much as the annoyance was still sitting low in Louis’ stomach, he didn’t even consider what it’d mean to travel without Harry, leaving the other boy at the station, somewhere in Prague’s outskirts.

He found Harry in the small waiting area, hunched into himself, earphones plugged into his ears, clearly sending the message of _leave me the fuck alone!_ So Louis sat beside Harry, studying the way the sparse sunlight was lighting up his features, marvelling once again at how _pretty_ Harry was. Now though, Harry’s forehead was furrowed and apparently their fight earlier hadn’t left him unaffected either. Louis wanted to bury his hands in Harry’s hair, knead through his curls, making the other boy hum in pleasure, washing the uneasiness out of his features. Louis couldn’t though, was sure that would cross some kind of line. A line neither of them seemed to be very sure of, judging by the way both of them had never really been reluctant to have physical contact. And on top of that came all the confusing as fuck events from the night before. Louis didn’t know what he was and wasn’t allowed to do after last night and the uneasiness made his skin crawl.

Harry was still pretending to ignore Louis even though Louis had been sure he had seen Harry’s eyes flit over quickly when Louis had sat down next to him. Louis’ hands were itching to touch somehow, aching to make Harry acknowledge him, to get _anything_ out of him. The silence between them was still stretching, turning into a languid mass weighing down on the two boys sitting in the shabby waiting room, making it hard to breathe. Louis needed to breathe though, needed to feel light again. Weightless. The way he was sure Harry felt in the many moments they had shared together. The way Harry’d made Louis feel the last few days before Louis had shattered everything. Heady runs and breathless breaks a distant memory.

Harry was staring into empty space still and his fingers were the only thing that gave away just how uneasy he had to be feeling. This was obviously killing the two of them, heavily tilting the balance that had sort of settled between them momentarily. Everything felt off and Louis knew that if he’d let it spread any longer, this might have meant the end of their already short HarryandLouis journey. And Louis was definitely not going to accept that. Sure, Harry was being an annoying brat right now and definitely not the bigger man, but Louis also wasn’t sure if Harry knew how much Louis feared they were risking with that stupid quarrel. Louis definitely wasn’t ready to spend the next few hours with Harry in moping silence.

Hesitantly, so as not to give off the wrong impression, he gripped Harry’s left wrist, the one with the anchor tattoo, with his right hand. It was a weak attempt to get the other boy to acknowledge him but the only thing Louis still deemed as acceptable platonic behaviour - or whatever the fuck you’d want to call what was going on between him and Harry. It seemed to be working, Harry taking the earphones out and pressing pause on his phone. He didn’t say anything though, only turned his head slightly and looked into Louis’ eyes, expression indecipherable. Louis lost himself in Harry’s eyes, trying to understand the other boy’s mind. Several hours seemed to pass. Louis wanted to drown in the sight, but his hand was still circling Harry’s, providing him with an anchor to hold on to, keeping him from losing the last remainders of purchase.

“I’m sorry,” Louis’ voice sounded strained, echoing the tension in his chest, “for yelling at you.”

The silence stretched on.

“I _do_ care, you know,” Harry answered, his voice low, lips barely moving, “And I’m sorry too. For like, messing up and making us miss the bus.”

“I don’t mind, Haz. I overreacted. I guess with everything going so smoothly lately… I just want this trip to be fun for the both of us,” He felt like he could breathe a bit better now, his voice more steady.

“I _am_ having fun, Louis,” Harry’s expression had turned serious again, his tone pressing, “Even when we were running like loons earlier.” There was a small smile threatening to break Harry’s serious countenance.

“Yeah?” Louis asked tentatively.

“More than I expected to, to be honest.” Huh. And now Louis was wondering about what Harry’s first impression of him had been.

They still hadn’t talked about everything they should have - especially with last night still niggling at Louis’ mind - but Louis was too tired to fight right now, didn’t have the energy to possibly make Harry uncomfortable again and so he tried to ignore the throbbing against the front of his head and the queasy weight in his stomach.

\------------------------------

Louis had slept less than Harry, had woken up when they’d crossed the German border and had only been able to fall into light slumber ever since. He was wordlessly cursing his messed up sleep patterns and damned all obnoxiously loud custom officers to hell that caused his lack of sleep until he had witnessed the first sunrise of his travels. The sun had risen slowly over the horizon and it wasn’t until Louis had watched what happened to the Alps towering in the distance when the sun was lazily announcing a new day. He’d definitely get up early for that again.

“Do you think we can go swimming in Bern?” Harry asked him somewhere between six and seven in the morning. His voice was still droopy from sleep having awoken merely minutes earlier and Louis wanted to wake up to this every morning for the next few decades. “I remember Janine mentioning that you can swim in the river.”

Louis yawned extendedly. Sunrise and Harry’s morning voice aside, it was still bloody early. “I think so yeah, if the weather’s nice enough,” he answered. “Did you pack your swim trunks then?”

Harry nuzzled Louis chest at that, almost forcing Louis to throw one arm over his shoulders. Louis didn’t really mind.

“Think so. Although I can always go skinny dipping. I’m not opposed to nudity.”

The last words were barely a whisper and Harry placed his mouth directly next to Louis’ ear and Louis silently congratulated himself for his body control. Arguing any further with Harry would probably be silly, but the thing was, right here, in this smelly bus, surrounded by sleepy passengers and next to a sweaty boy whose smug smile was almost too much for Louis’ eyes to take in, he felt like he'd won.

Next thing he knew, however, Harry was licking across his face. One straight line over Louis’ face right from his earlobe up to the corner of his mouth and Harry was positively disgusting and Louis was once again forced to contemplate the fact that he was travelling with a five year old. He was also fiercely denying the unmanly squeal that escaped him when his face was wetted by Harry’s obscene tongue if anyone would hold it against him. And he was absolutely denying that he had felt how Harry’s tongue had lingered slightly longer at the edge of Louis’ mouth.

“You’re a menace. Get off me!” he hissed at Harry, trying to turn away in the tight space to show his distaste of Harry’s way of showing affection. Harry didn’t take any of it though, and cackled next to him, making his and Louis’ seats shake. “I should’ve left you at the station. Don’t know why I still keep you around.”

“You loooove me. I give you cuddles. And penis-jokes,” Harry sing-songed into Louis’ ear, his face too close to Louis’ once again, nudging his cheek. Harry’s charm should be made illegal because unfair and Louis was definitely way too fond of him.

“Aaah, yes. Penis jokes. Wouldn’t know where I’d get them from otherwise,” Louis quipped, biting his cheek to stop the smile from taking over his face. In any other situation, he’d sprung at the kind of innuendo he just opened up to but with their earlier fight he was afraid he might end up putting his foot in his mouth, once again.

“As far as I know you didn’t get any since this whole thing started,” Harry supplied wittingly, his mind apparently already moving on from their fragile state. The knowing tilt to Harry’s smirk told him that Harry had to know that Louis wasn’t just thinking of the lack of suggestive joke on his part - which was blatantly misconceived - having spent the better part of the last two weeks with him.

\------------------------------

**BERNE**

He handed Harry his ice cream and started to lick at his own cone, some of the ice cream already melted, running over his fingers. When he was sure that he’d saved most of the delicious titbit, Louis threw a quick glance at Harry to see if the other boy was enjoying the ice cream as much as Louis was. Harry was staring at Louis though, completely ignoring the cone in his hands and the ice cream that was dripping over his fingers. When Louis met his gaze, Harry seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts, quickly licking the ice cream of his fingers. Louis had to look away - if he wanted to keep this level of sanity going. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that Harry had been staring at Louis’ mouth, fascinated by the way he was licking his ice cream, but he was probably getting ahead of himself. After all, there hadn’t happened much between them since the strange events in Prague, except maybe for some cuddling on the bus and on one drunken night when inhibitions had been lowered on both parts and Louis had dared cuddling close to Harry, justifying it with the small space the tiny bunk bed had provided them with.

“Berne is weird,” Harry remarked out of the blue. His face was scrunched up in a confused frown. “I mean, there are these like really old buildings and then you have all these modern shops and storefronts somehow tucked into them.”

“What’s so weird about that?” Louis wanted to know. Sure, it was a bit weird how the general appearance of the town had probably remained the same since the time the individual parts had been built.  Now though, there were illuminated banners put up right beneath the large windows of the townhouses and the power-lines of the tram and bus spanning a few metres above the cobble-stone street. To Louis, the town had remained somewhere suspended in time, unable to slide into one or the other era.

“I don’t really know, it’s just… You know like, London is old too, right. But in a different way, kind of. But here, everything looks a bit the same, but still proper and nice, instead of run down, and I guess, it’s just that they somehow managed to keep the old and still keep up with globalisation and some such...” He was pointing at the H&M sign they’d just passed and Louis remembered the Starbucks he’d spotted earlier - remembering it just in case Bern lacked any good coffee shops. “I’m not sure what to make of it.”

“Just embrace it, I guess,” Louis shrugged, unable to give Harry a proper answer.

They spent a few minutes in silence, enjoying their ice creams which had exceeded their expectations, even if Louis’ friend, Janine, had enthused over it endlessly. Louis was happily appreciating the flavour explosion the peanut and Mare di Nutella ice cream created on his tongue.

Passing the large clock tower, Louis snorted slightly at the hoard of tourists gathered at the bottom of the broad building, enthusiastically snapping away dozens of pictures of the large clockwork a few metres above their heads. Harry and Louis entered another alleyway that stretched along the oldest parts of town, as Janine had explained earlier. All of the parts looked kind of similar to Louis, though, so he had to trust her on that knowledge.

“Do you remember where the flat is?” Louis noticed that finding Janine’s flat again might pose a challenge, given the fact that neither had paid much attention to their surroundings when leaving the flat this morning.

“Ehm, yeah, no,” Harry admitted sheepishly. “I was kinda focussed on getting to see the bears, to be honest.” His cheeks had turned an adorable pink. _Adorable?_ Huh. Not that it wasn’t true, but Louis found himself questioning what Harry even was to him at this point. **  
**

“It’s alright, Haz, it’s not as if I do remember,” Louis amended, reluctantly witnessing the fondness that coloured his voice.

\------------------------------

Janine had left quite a while ago. They should probably go down as well to help out with preparing dinner. But Louis didn’t want to. He liked it up here. The city seemed to have calmed down over the last hour, fewer and fewer taxis weaving their ways through the narrow alleys and only a handful of trams rattling through the streets, their wheels screeching in the rails when the trains turned toward either of the bridges crossing the river. Louis was watching the few people amble through the _Lauben_ , noticing how some of them stopped every now and then to get a closer look at whatever was displayed in the windows. The sun was approaching the horizon, not really setting yet, and the mild breeze that swept over the roofs of the Old Town made the air feel almost silken on Louis’ skin.

Louis hadn’t registered when Harry had moved away from his side, too focussed on what was going on in the streets below. And suddenly he felt a hesitant touch at the small of his back and realised that it had to be Harry’s hand. Louis didn’t react, too scared to do anything wrong and break whatever Harry was tenderly building up to. Focussing on the sounds closer to him, Louis could hear Harry’s feet shuffling closer from behind him. He felt rather than heard when Harry’s breath was ghosting over his neck, making the hair there stand up. Louis’ skin was prickling from the voltage that whirred in the small space that was left between their bodies. He felt electric. Chasing the echo of Harry’s tender touch, Louis leaned back, trying to make Harry understand how much he wanted him to touch, to caress every inch of Louis’ skin. Harry’s chest was now plastered to Louis’ back, both of them exchanging the warmth of their bodies. At some point, Harry had removed his hand from Louis’ back and was caressing Louis upper arms now. He revelled in Harry’s touch and the settling feeling the other boy left with every single one of his caresses. Louis could have stayed like that for days, weeks, eternities, his body melting with Harry, his smell, his presence alone. Louis hummed quietly, letting Harry know how much he was enjoying the moment. Except for that small gesture, they remained both silent, their shared moment richer in silence than loaded with a thousand words. Louis’ skin was still prickling, his heart still beating loudly in his chest, and yet his mind had never felt so calm. At the periphery of his conscience Louis knew that this wasn’t supposed to make sense, his body and mind experiencing a complete contradiction but he pushed the thought back where he didn’t have to deal with it. He wasn’t going to question something that made his mind settle and assured him that for the first time in what felt like several decades, he was completely at ease and convinced that he was in the right place at the right time.

The setting sun was casting the maze of window oriels and tightly winded roofs in a mesh of orange and red. Their margins blurred by the distance and air pollution, the Alps towered on the edge of the horizon and Louis suddenly understood the appeal people found when looking at the panorama in front of them. What had appeared as simple white formations in the distance was now a multi-dimensional colour-explosion. Even though the distance still made it difficult to discern the single edges and summits, Louis was stunned by their sheer size and span that was now immensely intensified.

At some point, Harry had wound his arms around Louis, enclosing him in a tight hug from behind. Harry’s head was resting on his shoulder and their cheeks were smushed together.

“I feel infinite,” Harry simply said, the vibrations of his voice transmitting to Louis’ head because of their proximity. _Infinite_. Infinite.

Louis was thrown back to Prague, to the moment he’d read these words for the very first time. Harry’s words were sprawled all over Louis’ mind, the only thing that was still discernible in the chaos Harry’d caused with his words.

_You know, that moment when you’re so happy you feel like you can reach out to all ends of the world and yet your feet haven’t left the ground._

Louis needed to breathe. So he did. The mild evening air filled his lungs but didn’t do anything for the current turmoil in his head.

Gradually, he turned around. Turned around because he needed to see Harry’s face, needed to see the infallible conviction in his face that the tone of his voice had suggested. Louis needed to know for sure that Harry had said the words with the utter certainty and the unconditional genuineness he had wished for when he’d explained the quote to Louis.

Finally, Louis could see Harry’s face. The blinding smile Louis had expected wasn’t there, yet the vision he was met with wasn’t any less magnificent. Harry’s eyes were filled with all the happiness his face didn’t portray and the sight made Louis heart skip several beats. Harry’s mouth was tilted into a small smile, a faint reflection of the overwhelming emotion in his eyes. He was beautiful like that, almost ethereal and Louis was short of words.

“I’m glad you’re happy, Haz,” Louis croaked, his voice still strained from his breathlessness. “I’m happy this place makes you so happy.”

An amused tilt was edging Harry’s small smile, broadening it slightly. Louis didn’t understand what Harry would find funny right now. The curly-haired boy swayed slightly on his feet and Louis noticed that he was shaking his head in slight disbelief, facing the ground. A faint chuckle made his shoulders shake and he raised his head again, the intense colour of his eyes robbing Louis off the ability to look away.

“You don’t understand Lou,” Harry insisted. His face spoke of intent, clearly focussing on the matter of hand. Apparently though, he made it his goal to confuse Louis even further, pressing himself back into Louis’ front, aligning the entirety of their bodies, nudging his nose against Louis’.

“ _You_ are the one who makes me feel like this, Lou,” Harry whispers against his lips. “This place, the things we’re doing, the incredible food… Those are just nice extras.”

A delightful stream of warmth was spreading from Louis’ chest, making his chest glow from the inside and his cheeks burn from the heat. His head was swimming in happiness and his stomach bubbly at the sight of the full-blown joy he saw now in Harry’s features. Because he didn’t know what else to say, he kissed Harry. Met his lips in a tender encounter, full and soft under his own. Their kiss didn’t turn heated, neither of them demanding more, instead they met in a mutual push and pull. Louis was swimming - floating - on the drug that was Harry and he didn’t want this to end anytime soon. First though, he wanted Harry to know, needed him to know that this wasn’t just a one-sided coin. With all the willpower he could, he pulled away from Harry but stayed close, incapable of bringing even the tiniest bit of space between them. He was never going to let go off Harry. Or as long as Harry’d have him.

The remainder of their kiss was still ghosting over Louis’ lips, cheeks and neck. Harry’d placed his hand at Louis’ nape during their kiss, disentangling the knots that had formed in his hair and occasionally scratching the sensitive skin lightly, sending shivers down Louis’ spine. None of it was doing anything to help Louis clear his mind. Not that he minded.

“You make me really happy, too, Curly. Just so you know,” he finally breathed out, staring into the deep green of Harry’s eyes.

The promise of another few weeks travelling - just being - together remained unspoken, the shared happiness of the moment enough to fill their hearts and clear their minds. Filled to the brim with anticipation of what was to come, Louis felt endless.

He was right where he was supposed to be.


End file.
